


Strut Your Stuff

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Fighters and Lovers [3]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 05:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13474755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Written for the comment_fic prompt: "author's choice, any friendship pair, 'Dignity. Always dignity.'"Sam teaches Miko how to comport herself after she wins a fight.Rodney learns how to strut his stuff on fight night.





	Strut Your Stuff

**Author's Note:**

  * For [popkin16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/popkin16/gifts).



> Also written for popkin16 for More Joy Day 2018, in gratitude for all her cheery support and encouragement of my writing.
> 
> Especial thanks to the phenomenal brumeier and m.dread for giving this story a look-see before it went live.

“Do you really think I can do this?” Miko asked. Sam, Teyla, Vala, and Amelia were all crowded around Miko at what was ostensibly the red corner of the training octagon at Atlantis gym. Teyla made sure Miko’s gloves were on properly.

“Yes,” Sam said. “You can do this.”

“What happens if I win?” Miko blinked. She looked strange without her glasses, but for this fight she had to wear contact lenses.

“ _ When _ you win,” Sam said, “you comport yourself with dignity. Always dignity.”

Amelia eyed Rodney, who was hovering beyond the ladies’ huddle with a bucket in hand. It was laden with water bottles and baggies full of ice cubes.

“Should you even be here?” Amelia said. “Shouldn’t you be over with  _ them?”  _ She jerked her head in the direction of the huddle at the blue corner, which was Evan, John, and Ronon giving Chuck some last-minute fight advice.

“Miko’s my friend. I don’t even know Chuck,” Rodney said.

Vala fixed him with an unimpressed look. “This fight is Team Ladies versus Team Gentlemen. You belong to Team Gentlemen.”

“I’m not a fighter,” Rodney protested.

“But you still have a stake in the outcome,” Vala said.

“No I don’t,” Rodney said.

Teyla’s serene smile wasn’t the least bit comforting. “If Chuck loses, you are subject to the same conditions as the rest of the men.”

Rodney blinked. “What? Why?”

“It is only fair,” Teyla said. “Numerically. There are four of us, and there are four of you.”

“What about Radek?” Rodney protested. “He -”

“He has not trained to fight as you have.” Teyla patted Rodney on the shoulder.

“Kanaan has. Why not Kanaan? He’s -”

“If you say Kanaan is better-looking than you -” Miko began. 

“Kanaan must stay home with Torren,” Teyla said sweetly. She plucked the bucket from Rodney’s hands and pushed him toward the blue corner. 

Rodney stumbled, caught himself, and said, “Fine. I’ll go stay with  _ my kind _ .” And he stomped over to the blue corner. Evan handed him a bucket just like the one he’d had not moments before. 

“You ready for this?” John pressed a brief kiss to his cheek. 

“It’s not my fight,” Rodney said. “And did you involve me in this ridiculous bet? Because I want no part in it.”

Ronon clapped Rodney on the shoulder. “If we lose -  _ if _ \- you’ll look great. All your hard work is really paying off.”

“Why thank you,” Rodney said automatically, then narrowed his eyes. “Have you been  _ looking?” _

“I’ve noticed.” Ronon shrugged.

Jack was acting as tonight’s announcer. As neither he nor Daniel had participated in training either competition participant, they were officially neutral parties. Daniel, Cameron Mitchell, and Aiden Ford were acting as tonight’s judges, seated in three chairs ringside. 

Jack was wearing a frankly gaudy blue suit, the likes of which would have made Bruce Buffer green with envy but genuinely might have made Rodney blind. Jack tapped the microphone, made sure it was on, cleared his throat.

“All right everyone, welcome to tonight’s special bout!”

_ Everyone _ was a bit of a misnomer. Apart from the two fighters and their respective training teams, the judges, the med support and the ref, the gym was empty.

“This contest will decide which team will perform as round card bearers for the night of Samantha Carter’s debut fight _. _ If Miko Kusanagi wins, Team Gentlemen will don booty shorts and bowties and carry the round cards. If Chuck Campbell wins, Team Ladies will don booty shorts and halter tops and carry the round cards.”

“Booty shorts?” Rodney demanded.

Ronon shrugged. “My ass looks great no matter what.”

Evan patted Rodney on the shoulder. “You have a great ass, too. It’ll be fine.”

“I will not be fine!” Rodney hissed. Then he paused. “You think my ass is great?”

Evan nodded earnestly. “Yes. It’s perfectly heart-shaped. Right, John?”

John fixed Evan with a dark look. “Does Miko know you’ve noticed how great Rodney’s ass is?”

“Miko was the one who pointed it out,” Evan said.

Jack fixed them with a look and cleared his throat pointedly.

“Sorry,” Rodney said.

Jack straightened up. “Fighting out of the red corner, standing at five feet six inches tall and weighing in at a hundred and forty pounds, from Colorado Springs, USA by way of Kagoshima, Japan, is the brilliant physicist and college judo champion Miko Kusanagi.”

At  _ college judo champion, _ Chuck’s eyes went wide, but Miko was doing a lap around the octagon, waving her gloves in the air and hamming it up for the invisible crowd while Team Ladies giggled.

Jack continued. “Fighting out of the blue corner, standing at five feet six inches tall and weighing in at a hundred and forty three pounds, from Colorado Springs, USA by way of Calgary, Canada, is respected tech sergeant Chuck Campbell!”

Chuck stumbled into the octagon and did a vague lap, then took up his corner. Evan, John, and Ronon were all standing at his corner just outside the fence, ready to provide him advice.

Teyla, Amelia, and Vala were all in Miko’s corner, grinning and nudging each other.

Janet, a medical doctor friend of Jack’s, was on hand to provide medical support and also be the timekeeper. 

Teal’c Chulak was acting as referee for the match. Just how many professional fighters were taking time out of their own busy careers and training schedules to participate in this madness? Rodney had clearly underestimated just how friendly a lot of these fighters were outside of the ring. It made their pre-fight smack-talk performances quite impressive.

The fight would be three five-minute rounds. Jack held the mic up for Teal’c while he recited the rules and explained he wanted a clean fight. Miko and Chuck touched gloves, then separated to their respective corners. Teal’c stepped out of the way, and Janet rang a bell, like the old-fashioned kind used for boxing matches.

There was no need for any kind of commentator, because pretty much everyone watching the fight had a great vantage point, and also they were all pretty well-versed in the rules and nuances of the sport.

Chuck and Miko circled each other warily, fists raised. Rodney could see how Chuck had been training with mostly Mitchell and Ford, given his stance and the way he held his guard. Miko mostly trained with Teyla and Sam, but given her years and years of judo, she had her own style. Granted, Chuck was a tech sergeant in the RCAF. Surely he had some modicum of physical training prior to going to an MMA gym, right? He was a soldier. He could take Miko -

_ “Whoa!” _

The chorus rose up unbidden. 

Miko darted in past Chuck’s guard, popped him in the face with a swift jab, and executed a perfect judo toss. Chuck landed on the canvas with a worryingly loud thump, and then Miko was on him, slugging away.

Miko had always seemed so sweet before, with her big round glasses and impossibly endless collection of Hello Kitty pens.

“That’s my girl,” Evan said proudly.

“Shut up, traitor,” John drawled, though without malice, and then shouted, “Roll her. She’s not posted right. Roll her!”

To which Sam responded, “Miko, post up!”

Chuck went to roll and reverse the mount right when Miko posted up, and then there was rolling and scrambling. Ronon, John, and Evan went mad, screaming for Chuck to get out, get out, don’t let her get it locked in.

On the other side of the ring, Vala was reminding Miko to get her shin across the back of Chuck’s neck, to keep his other arm extended, to turn her body.

And then Teal’c was in the middle, yanking them apart. Miko immediately went to hug her team while Janet scrambled into the training octagon to get a look at Chuck’s arm.

“What happened?” Rodney demanded. 

“We lost,” Ronon said.

“Thanks for stating the obvious. I mean how did we lose?”

“Miko got him in a head-and-arm triangle,” Evan said. “Even though judo was her thing, she’s really come a long way with her jujitsu.” He sounded pleased.

Jack announced the results - Miko won by submission, triangle at one minute ten seconds of round one, contest called to a halt by the ref. Jack did the formal win, raised Miko’s hand high in the air.

And then he thrust the mic at her. “Any words for your adoring fans?”

Miko winked at Evan and said, “Go get measured for some booty shorts.”

Cam and Aiden nearly fell off their chairs laughing.

Once the formalities were over even Miko was hovering over Chuck, asking after his welfare. He was okay, she hadn’t cranked on him too tightly before he’d tapped. Aiden complimented Miko on her judo technique.

“You trained her well,” Ronon said to Teyla, shaking her hand.

“She is naturally a skilled fighter, and she came to us with much training,” Teyla said, smiling serenely.

“So, Samantha,” Vala said, slinging an arm around her shoulders, “how are you feeling about your pro debut?”

“I’m thinking, win or lose, it’s going to be a great night.” Sam grinned at Rodney, and he realized.

Her pro debut. Was going to be televised.

*

“You want me to - _ what?” _ Elizabeth Weir was one of the event coordinators, looked composed and dignified in a sleek charcoal gray pantsuit and red blouse.

“Let us hold the round cards for at least Sam’s fight,” John said.

Elizabeth folded her hands on her desk and blinked but looked otherwise composed. “And by  _ us _ you mean Ronon Dex, you, Evan Lorne, and your boyfriend Rodney, who’s been nominated for a Nobel prize in physics.”

“We lost a bet,” Rodney said sourly.

“There are potentially only three rounds in Sam’s fight, and there are four of you,” Elizabeth pointed out.

Evan shrugged. “If other ladies wanted us to do the cards for their fights, we brought enough numbers to make it interesting for a main event.” 

Main events, title or otherwise, were always five rounds long.

Elizabeth pressed her lips together in a thin line. Rodney couldn’t tell if she was angry or trying not to laugh.

“We have costumes picked out and everything,” Evan added. He unlocked his phone and showed her a picture - of Ronon in booty shorts and a bowtie.

Elizabeth actually blushed. “I see. But the round card girls we have are on a contract.”

Ronon shrugged. “Pay ’em. We’re doing this for free.”

“Well, let me confer with the contestants and see if any of them are interested.” Elizabeth smiled, rose, smoothed down her blouse, and gestured for them to leave the office.

It was weigh-in day, and Teyla and the rest of the ladies were there to rally around Sam. Rodney and the rest of Team Gentlemen went to stand with Sam, because whatever teams they’d been on for this ridiculous bet, everyone was there to support Sam, who was fighting for the honor of Atlantis Gym. 

“Aren’t you nervous?” Rodney asked. 

Sam was wearing little satiny boxer shorts and a matching sports bra, and she looked amazing. And fierce.

“Why should I be nervous?” Sam asked.

Her opponent was a woman named Freya Anise, like some kind of pop princess, but who was apparently also a scientist for her day job. This was Freya’s debut fight as well.

“Aren’t you worried about getting injured and -” Rodney gestured vaguely.

“You mean getting injured and losing some of my intellectual capacity?” Sam raised her eyebrows.

“Well, yeah.”

“John’s intellectual capacity hasn’t suffered, has it?”

“No.”

“He takes a lot more damage on a regular basis than I will tonight.” Sam patted Rodney on the shoulder. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“You can’t make that kind of promise,” Rodney said. “It’s not rational.”

Sam put both hands on his shoulders. “Take a deep breath, Rodney. I’ll be fine. You should be more worried about yourself anyway.”

Right. Being a card bearer. Rodney rolled his eyes. “Thanks for that reminder.”

Sam grinned. “Always glad to help.” She clapped him on the shoulder, then answered Vala’s summons. 

This was a local amateur fight, nothing particularly fancy, but it was Sam’s first official competition, and Rodney really was glad for her, wanted to support her. Rodney hadn’t been prepared for just how famous John, Ronon, Evan, Teyla, Vala, and Amelia really were till weigh-in happened.

Freya was accompanied by her friends from her gym and also some friends from her lab. She was wearing honest-to-goodness gold lamé fight shorts and a matching sports bra. She stepped onto the scale first, looked pleased when her weight was announced. Sam stepped up next, and her weight was recorded - Sam had decided against cutting weight, like all of Jack’s fighters. Then Sam and Freya posed opposite each other, fists raised.

Freya was looking fierce indeed, but then she spotted who was arrayed behind Sam in Atlantis Gym t-shirts and track pants, and her eyes went wide.

“Are they your team?”

Sam glanced back. “Oh, yes. Well, they’re also my friends, but they have helped me train.”

Freya abandoned her fierce posture and went to speak to Teyla, Vala, and Amelia, babbling effusively and smiling so brightly, and she looked so young.

Very young. Inexperienced. 

Sam was going to crush her. Rodney had never been a betting man, but he knew Sam. Sam was going to win.

If only Rodney was sure his participation in tomorrow night’s events was going to be even remotely successful.

Once all the weigh-ins were done, Elizabeth asked for the press - a few local papers, plus some sports blogs - to leave the room so she could confer with the participants about a last-minute issue. Given that her expression was calm and she was still wearing her pristine suit, the press assumed it was something boring and admin-like, so they shuffled out obediently.

Elizabeth strode to the center of the little platform that had been erected to serve as the weigh-in and photo op stage, cleared her throat. She commanded attention immediately, with the slightest lift of her chin and arch of her brows, and everyone fell silent.

“As you all know, tomorrow night’s fights are qualifying bouts for the Invicta all-women’s league, which means that all of the combat participants are women. That being said, MMA is a combat sport that particularly appeals to male fans. However, the female fanbase is growing pretty steadily. To that end, in an effort to promote female fans of female fighters, we will have the option of having some attractive men to display the round cards between rounds during tomorrow’s bouts. We will have our usual round girls on hand, but anyone who wants to opt into this should let me know immediately.”

Freya raised her hand.

“Miss Anise?”

“How good-looking are these men?”

“Objectively speaking, all of them are in fine physical condition and have the physiques necessary to pull off appropriately skimpy outfits for the occasion,” Elizabeth said, and there were some giggles at  _ skimpy. _

Another woman raised her hand. “What if one of us wants the girls and one of us wants the boys?”

“We could alternate,” Elizabeth offered. “Of course, there is no guarantee every bout will have the maximum number of rounds.”

“You know,” a third woman said, “I always did say that if I was going to fight, I’d want a good-looking guy parading around the octagon holding a round card. I’m in!”

“Me too!” another woman said, and there was a lot of shouting, and Elizabeth had to whistle pretty shrilly to get them to quiet down.

“Do we have a consensus then?” she asked. “Round card boys?”

The cheers were deafening.

“Well,” John murmured to Rodney, “looks like we have our work cut out for us.”

*

Rodney thought the round girls might have been a bit peeved about having their job taken from them, but they were still getting paid, and they had the night off, so they were more than happy to show Rodney and the rest of the gang the path they were supposed to walk around the octagon, where the camera would be if they wanted to do the wink-and-kiss, and where the cards were kept, how to make sure they didn’t get mixed up.

Rodney had never been surrounded by quite so many beautiful women in his life, but rather than feeling flattered, he was terrified. One of the girls must have noticed how nervous he was, because she patted him on the shoulder and said,

“It gets kinda cold, so stick close to your sisters - or I guess brothers - to stay warm, but hey, at least everyone will think you’re super hot, right?”

“Yes,” Rodney said faintly. “At least everyone will think I’m super hot. That’s exactly why I got two doctorates in hard sciences.”

The girl laughed. “You’re so funny.” She kissed him on the cheek and then flounced away in a cloud of perfume.

“I really have two doctorates,” Rodney called after her, but she was gone.

In the hours before the fights were supposed to start, all of the professional fighters were crowded around Sam, giving her last-minute advice, reviewing their game plan after having watched some of Freya’s training videos she’d posted to her online blog documenting her journey in  _ the fascinating subculture of modern combat sports. _

Half an hour before the event officially began, Amelia, Teyla, and Vala were drafted into a coaches’ meeting. Miko found the men at the entrance to the locker rooms with a bag of gear.

“Here,” she said. “Uniforms for everyone.”

Rodney’s heart sped up. John pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“It’ll be fine, promise.”

“You’re shirtless on TV all the time,” Rodney protested as John bundled him and the bag into the men’s locker room.

“Rodney,” John said, “I promise, you look great. Now let’s do this.”

Their uniforms consisted of, as promised, booty shorts and bowties, but also some tear-away track pants and Atlantis Gym t-shirts.

“Why the track pants and t-shirts?” Ronon asked.

“I think it’s in case we get cold,” Rodney said, remembering what the one round girl had told him.

“So it’s a surprise,” Evan said. “We sit out there on the bench, and before our first time up - woohoo!”

“Like strippers?” Ronon asked.

Horror started to curl low in Rodney’s gut all over again.

“Yeah,” Evan said, and John and Ronon nodded, both of them laughing.

“Who’s going first?” Ronon asked.

Rodney startled himself by saying, “Me.”

John blinked. “Really?”

“Yes. So I can get it over with.” And because there was no way Rodney could go  _ after _ any of the others.

Ronon clapped Rodney on the shoulder. “See? You’re brave. Totally ready for this. Now let’s get changed.”

Rodney retreated to one of the bathroom stalls to squirm into the little shorts and bowtie. Then he pulled the track pants and t-shirt on over the outfit and stepped back into the main room, but Evan insisted he needed to apply some hairspray.

“Hairspray? For my hair?” Rodney knew his hair was thinning some, but he kept it neat. Not everyone could have hair like John.

“So your shorts don’t ride up,” Evan said, shaking the hairspray bottle in a manner that Rodney found vaguely disturbing. “Now turn around and pull your track pants down.”

“Turn around?” Rodney echoed, confused, but John and Ronon caught him by the shoulders and spun him around and then -  _ “What the hell was that?” _

“Hairspray,” Evan said, “so your shorts don’t ride up. The round girls explained it to me.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t some kind of prank?” Rodney demanded, because Evan had just sprayed his butt with hairspray.

“No, I think it’s a real thing. Saw it on  _ Miss Congeniality, _ ” Ronon said. He took the spray can from Evan, and Evan turned around, and then it was John’s turn, and finally Ronon’s turn, and finally all four of them were fully-dressed and heading out to the bench beside the octagon.

Rodney saw the round cards stacked at the end of the bench, and he checked through them to make sure they were in the right order. He saw the judges’ table, the bench for the refs and arena cutmen, the bench for the medical team and the spaces for the coaches.

There were VIP seats for the friends and family of the competitors - Miko, Radek, and Laura were already seated - and the little arena was filling up fast. Rodney noted the positions of the various cameras.

A woman named Kate was announcing the event, and the commentators were Sora Tyrus, Aiden Ford, and Lou Ferretti, apparently a veteran fighter who’d gone up against Jack back in the day. Rodney spotted Elizabeth lingering along the edges of the space immediately surrounding the octagon. She looked more like a federal agent than an event administrator, with her fancy radio earpiece and dark suit.

Rodney was so nervous that he didn’t hear the names of the first two fighters. They were making their debut in a weight class below Sam’s. Both of them had brown hair in fancy cornrows and braids and Rodney couldn’t tell them apart. 

But he watched the timekeeper standing beside the octagon gate, waiting for the signal. 

Kate Heightmeyer, the announcer, was a beautiful woman, sleek in a dark suit and high heels, with long red-blonde hair pulled up in a high ponytail. She looked like a million dollars. And she had an impressive set of lungs. 

The timekeeper signaled. 

Rodney stood up, shrugged off his shirt, tore away his track pants - and hoots and hollers sounded behind him.

He spun around, heart thumping. Laura, Miko, and Radek were all cheering for him, wearing bright grins. Rodney waved back tentatively. But then Evan was shoving the Round 1 card at him, and Rodney hurried up the steps to the outer platform on the octagon perimeter. He held the card high, did his best to smile, and did his best not to fall off the edge. 

The cameraman was waiting at the bottom of the steps after he finished his lap, so Rodney aimed his grin at the camera before he resumed his place on the bench. 

Evan clapped him on the shoulder. “Good job,” he said, or something like it, his voice barely audible over the audience’s roar as the two fighters touched gloves and started to circle.

The view from the bench wasn’t great, mostly because Rodney had to crane his neck to look up, and the circling cameramen and ref were sometimes obscured Rodney’s view of the action. Watching the fights on television definitely netted a better view. The energy in the room was intense, though. And Rodney could make out the audience commentary better.

There were shouts, encouraging the women to just let loose on each other. There was one man who yelled,  _ Take her down, baby! _ A boyfriend or spouse, perhaps?

Even though Rodney had been training casually at Atlantis Gym for over a year now and understood MMA as a sport much better than he had when he’d first started dating John, he still didn’t have a very good eye for seeing when a strike connected or not, and he still didn’t know enough to have a sense of a fighter’s technical skill - or lack thereof. 

Like so many lay fans, he was easily distracted by aggression or volume of strikes thrown.

And then he heard a woman yell,  _ Hey, you! _

Rodney glanced over his shoulder reflexively. How could anyone in the audience hope to distract a fighter in the middle of a fight, let alone get a response?

He saw a woman standing up on her seat, waving one arm frantically. Was she in trouble? Rodney tugged on Evan’s t-shirt, and Evan twisted around.

“Look,” Rodney said, pointing.

Evan tilted his head. “Look where?”

The woman waved again.  _ Hey you! _

“Is she trying to distract the fighters?” Rodney asked.

“She’d be crazy to try,” Evan said.

And then the woman looked right at Rodney and grinned, made a hand gesture that meant  _ call me. _

Rodney blinked, startled. Pointed to himself.  _ Me? _ Not that it mattered, because he was with John, but -

The woman picked up her cardboard sign - which read  _ Go Freya Anise! _ \- and turned it around, wrote on the back. When she held it up again, it had a phone number on it.

Rodney blinked again, felt his face heat up. Before he could respond, noise exploded in the arena, and he heard Kate’s voice over the loudspeaker.

“The referee has called a stop to this fight at two minutes, thirty-two seconds into the first round. We go to the judges for the official decision.” 

Rodney craned his neck some more and saw, up on the big screen, Kate stepping into the octagon, microphone at the ready. The fighters’ respective corner teams flooded the octagon as well with bottles and t-shirts. 

There was a lot of pacing, standing around, shaking hands between both camps, some hugs. A runner in black clothes handed Kate a piece of paper. The two fighters assembled, one on each side of the ref, the ref holding their wrists.

Kate raised her microphone. “The winner, by TKO, is...Mara Tavius.”

The ref hoisted Mara’s hand high, and the audience exploded into more cheers.

Kate interviewed the winner, who breathlessly explained how she was so honored to have made her debut fight against such a talented opponent, and how she was grateful to Elizabeth Weir for giving her this chance.

“And one more thing: I love the round card boys. Keep it up, hotties!” She whooped, and the audience responded with mingled cheers and laughter.

Evan thumped Rodney on the back again. “See? It’s going just fine.”

Then there was the between-round shuffle, arena staff cleaning up the canvas in the cage and fight crews settling into their respective corners.

Rodney swallowed a mouthful of water after Evan pressed a water bottle on him. This next fight was Sam’s. Teyla, Amelia, and Vala gathered in the blue corner. Freya Anise’s training team and coaches gathered in the red corner.

Freya got to walk out first, wearing a gaudy track suit that matched the gaudiness of the outfit she’d weighed in with. While her corner was helping her out of said track suit - the gloves meant people tended to get stuck in their sleeves - Sam did her walk out. The cutmen swarmed them, the ref checked them over, and then into the octagon they went.

Kate announced their stats - height, weight, reach, what cities they were fighting out of - and explained that this was also their debut fight. She introduced the ref, and the ref ran over the rules, sent the women to their respective corners.

At the signal from the timekeeper, John hopped up. He stripped off his t-shirt in a single practiced move - he’d done it before fights many times. Then he tugged off the tear-away track pants, and behind him the crowd went insane.

Rodney twisted around, eyes wide, and saw that at least half of the women in the audience were on their feet, hooting and hollering at John. John scooped up the round card Evan held out to him, and he paraded around the octagon, completely and utterly shameless. He grinned and waved at the camera on his way down the steps, and then he plopped down on the bench beside Ronon, who gave him a fist-bump.

Then the bell sounded, and the fight began in earnest.

Rodney leaned forward, gaze locked on Sam, trying to follow the action.

The fight opened with both Sam and Freya being cautious, staying on each other’s outside - they both fought conventional - and gauging distance with punches and kicks. Freya was more prone to throwing kicks, and they looked snappy, but Sam managed to block or dodge. Halfway through the round, Freya stepped up, got more aggressive, pressuring Sam and keeping her at the edge of the octagon.

Teyla was very vocal about Sam needing to stay off the cage, so Sam circled around, tried to get back to the middle, but Freya continued to be aggressive, fending her off.

“How’s it looking?” Rodney asked.

“Not good for Sam,” John murmured. “Freya’s putting out more volume, landing the more significant strikes.”

Whenever Sam lunged in for a strike, Freya struck back, and in the flurry of hands and feet it was hard for Rodney to tell who’d hit whom and how hard.

Sam threw a high crescent kick, and Rodney winced, but John shook his head.

“All blocked,” he said.

At the end of the round, both women were breathing hard, listening intently while their corner teams iced them down and gave them advice.

Evan was quick to his feet with the round card before the start of the next bell. He strutted around the octagon, card held high, smoldering and masculine but also incredibly flirty right until the end when he was trotting down the steps, and he paused to blow a kiss at the camera.

If the crowd had gone insane for John, they went rabid for Evan, screaming and shouting and cheering, and Evan, because he was shameless, twisted around and waved at them and didn’t bother to put his shirt back on.

“Shameless hussy,” Ronon said.

Evan grinned. “Why thank you.”

“I’ve got you beat next round,” Ronon added.

“Assuming the fight isn’t over this round,” John murmured.

The bell rang, and Sam and Freya sprang into action. Once again Freya was taking the lead, kicking and punching and keeping Sam at range, but Sam was feinting high and low, high and low, and then she started feinting high, high, threw a high kick and -

“Yes!” Rodney pumped a fist in the air as Sam and Freya went crashing to the mat in a mad scramble, Sam on top.

Freya managed to get Sam in half guard. Sam never quite managed to pass guard, because Freya put up a hell of a fight, but when Vala started shouting  _ elbows! _ Sam obeyed, managed to slam her elbow into Freya’s face a couple of times. Freya’s corner was shouting for her to get to her feet.

“How can she possibly get to her feet?” Rodney asked.

“Watch,” John said, and sure enough, Freya started scooting across the canvas toward the fence.

Right. She could get her feet on the fence, walk herself over, and end up on top. Sam was trying to keep her in place, was trying to control her hands enough to get in more shots. Sam was definitely in the most advantageous position, managed to get that elbow and hammer fist in there over and over again, but sure enough, they were up against the fence.

Did Sam not see it? Freya started walking her feet along the fence, careful not to grip the fence with her toes.

Rodney wanted to yell out a warning, but then Freya was on her feet, and Sam was -

Sam was on her back, arms locked around her neck.

They hit the canvas again with a painful-sounding thump.

“Is it locked in?” John craned his neck. “I can’t see.”

“Me neither.” Evan peered, but since he was shorter than John, he didn’t have much of a better view.

“Not quite,” Ronon said. “It’s all hand-fighting from here.”

The crowd was cheering and hollering as Freya battered at Sam’s head and arms and sides with fists and elbows, trying to get her to let go while Sam used Freya’s strikes to try to lock the choke in further. Rodney wondered why the ref wasn’t breaking them up, and Ronon wondered the same thing, but Evan figured they were both working enough to keep on fighting.

A couple of times Rodney was sure Sam had it locked in, John and the others were sure too, but Freya was very, very good at bothering Sam and getting her to loosen up, and sure enough, the bell rang, and the round was done.

Rodney wasn’t sure what Freya’s corner was saying to her, but it looked very intense, lots of yelling and hand-waving. By contrast, Vala, Teyla, and Amelia in Sam’s corner seemed calm, quiet, focused.

The crowd was practically feral for Ronon. As soon as he stood up, there were cheers. When he peeled off his shirt, there were more cheers. Then he  _ wiggled his ass _ before he tore away his track pants, and after that, Rodney couldn’t hear. John and Evan were hollering and hooting as well between gasps of laughter. Ronon held that round card high, strutted the perimeter of the octagon, blew a kiss at the cameraman, and then  _ winked _ before he sauntered back to his place on the bench.

Then he was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, watching intently as the fight began.

Freya came out hard. She committed behind every single punch, and her kicks were snappier, faster, harder than before, and Sam couldn’t get close enough to land a hit without taking a nasty hit herself.

Rodney leaned forward, wincing every time Sam took a hit. “C’mon, come on, come on!”

And then Sam was in close, and they were clinched up, and Freya was throwing vicious knees, and suddenly Sam was behind Freya and climbing up her back and Freya was driving elbows back into Sam’s ribs. John, Ronon, and Evan were on their feet, shouting and cheering, and then the ref was pulling Sam off of Freya and Freya was on her knees, a hand to her throat as she struggled to breathe.

Sam was over at her corner, talking through the fence, breathing hard but smiling.

The door to the cage opened, and Kate and the camera crew were in the there, and the corner teams spilled in there while the ref corralled Sam and Freya in the middle of the octagon.

There was a pause while Kate went to the fence to talk to the judges and timekeepers, and then she was on her microphone.

“This fight has been called to a halt by the referee at three minutes, seventeen seconds into the third round for submission by rear naked choke for your winner Samantha Carter!”

Rodney was on his feet and cheering unabashedly when the ref raised Sam’s hand high.

Then Sam was shaking hands with Freya and hugging her, and the two corner teams were shaking hands and bowing, and then Sam, Teyla, Vala, and Amelia were taking a victory selfie, and it was time to reset for the next fight. Rodney and Evan shuffled the round cards back into order.

Elizabeth materialized out of the crowd.

“Gentlemen,” she said, and John, Evan, and Ronon started violently.

“Elizabeth,” Evan said politely once he’d calmed.

“You’ve put on a good show,” she said, “and I appreciate your efforts at being charming. You’re welcome again any time you like.” She inclined her chin politely, then vanished back into the ringside crowd.

Evan and Ronon shared a fistbump.

And then it was on to the next fight. When Rodney stood up to display the round card, he did it with pride, and it was pretty gratifying to hear the people cheering in the crowd.

The rest of the night passed in a bit of a blur, Rodney and the others taking turns holding the round cards. After a couple of fights, Sam reappeared, wearing a clean t-shirt and sweats, freshly showered, surprisingly no bruising on her face. Rodney slung an arm around her shoulders and hugged her.

“You were awesome.”

“I’m pretty sure I got lucky, taking her back like I did in that third round, but a win is a win. After all, we get lucky in the lab all the time, right?” Sam grinned at him.

“You okay?”

“Doctor cleared me. I’m fit as a fiddle.”

Teyla, Vala, and Amelia joined them as well, and then Sam and Rodney were privy to some of the best color commentary for the fights they could ever hope for, surrounded by professional fighters.

Sam and the other ladies cheered enthusiastically whenever Rodney and the other men got up to show the round cards, and by the end of the night, Rodney was pretty damn confident. He could strut around in public wearing nothing more than booty shorts, a bowtie, and sneakers, and he could look damn fine at it.

After all the fights were done, John caught Rodney’s elbow. “Meet back at the locker rooms. We’re going out after.”

Rodney nodded.

Back at the locker room, when Rodney opened his locker, a garment bag was hanging in it. He stared at it, puzzled, but then he unzipped it. A tux was inside. He peeked in at the tug. It was  _ his _ tux, the one he had to wear to fancy business dinners and awards ceremonies. He turned to ask what was going on, but Evan was making a beeline for the showers, calling over his shoulder to Ronon about how they had to move fast, they had reservations.

Reservations? 

A good number of the victorious fighters had announced which clubs they were going to be celebrating at, encouraged their fans to come join them so they could party it up. Clubs didn’t usually have reservations, did they?

Rodney headed for the showers as well, cleaned up as fast as he could.

Evan was out of the shower and at one of the sinks, shaving with a straight razor and a small hand mirror, because he was insane. 

“I didn’t bring a razor,” Rodney said, feeling a little helpless.

“In your locker,” Evan said.

Rodney stared at him. “This is like the time you kidnapped me, isn’t it?”

“Miko and I make a great team.” Evan smiled enigmatically and continued shaving.

Rodney had just finished shaving when John arrived. He checked his locker for supplies, thanked Evan, and hopped into the shower.

An hour later, Rodney stepped out of the locker room and into what looked like prom. Miko, adorable in a full-skirted deep pink gown. Vala, outrageous in a sleek gold gown with a plunging neckline and a daring thigh-high slit. Teyla, serene in a blue satin evening gown. Sam, in a sexy little black number with red straps, a red slip, and red-soled black heels. Amelia, like an Amazon queen in an emerald dress that clung to every curve. Kanaan, Radek, and Chuck were wearing their nicest tuxes.

“Obviously I need to win more fights if this is my reward,” Sam said.

“Maybe,” Rodney said, “I need to shoot for a professional fight.”

“If you want to,” John said, and Rodney turned, and - wow.

He’d never seen John in an actual tux before. And John was stunning. 

“Do we have to go to the restaurant?” Rodney asked in a low voice, stepping in closer and pretending to fiddle with John’s bowtie. “Can we just go home?”

“Evan got reservations,” John said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

Evan clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Go on home. It’s fine.”

“I’ll just eat your share of the food,” Ronon said.

Rodney laced his fingers through John’s and towed him toward the door.

Miko said, “We’ll drop your other stuff off later!”

Out on the sidewalk, John hailed a cab.

Their driver was a young man, dark-skinned, bright-eyed. “You guys got to see the fights live, huh?”

“That’s right,” Rodney said. “Ringside seats.”

“That’s awesome. I only got to listen on the radio,” the man said. “I heard this time they had ring boys.”

“They did,” Rodney said cautiously.

“I’m damn sorry I missed that. I heard they were hot. Where to?”

“They were damn hot,” John said, and squeezed Rodney’s hand, grinning at him. He gave the young man his address.

“I just think it’s so awesome,” the young man continued, guiding the taxi confidently through the streets. 

“No lie, hot round card boys are very awesome,” Rodney said.

“I also think it’s awesome, that there are openly gay fighters, and also that the men support the women,” the young man said. “When I have enough money saved up, I’m totally going to sign on for Atlantis Gym.”

“You want to be an MMA fighter?” John asked, leaning forward between the seats.

“Yeah,” the young man said. “I’ve always enjoyed the physicality of it, you know? And the intensity and dedication. Not to mention knowing how to dodge a punch and fight off of my back might have made my life a bit easier when I came out in high school.”

Rodney was not much prone to sentimentality or sympathy, but he also leaned forward, shoulder-to-shoulder with John. “You know Atlantis Gym has some basic self-defense courses, right? Not as intense as MMA training, not as expensive, but well worth it.”

The young man glanced briefly in the rearview mirror. “Yeah, but I doubt I’d be able to concentrate with a hottie like John Sheppard or Ronon Dex or Evan Lorne  _ looking _ at me.”

John and Rodney exchanged glances. Had he not recognized John?

“If that’s the case,” John said, “how would you handle throwing down with them up close and personal on the mats? Because usually it’s Daniel and Teyla who do the self-defense classes.”

“You make a fine point,” the young man said. “Maybe I should just start with self-defense classes. See if I can function just breathing the same air as John Sheppard. He’s  _ so  _ fine.”

“That he is,” Rodney chimed in, shooting John a look.

John blushed.

“I love his tattoo,” the young man continued.

Rodney couldn’t help himself. “I know, right?”

“I think it would be so hot to, like, lick every single line of his tattoo.”

“I agree.” Rodney cast John a heated glance. “I bet he’d really enjoy that.”

John’s blush deepened.

Before the young driver could enthuse much further, they arrived at the house.

“Cash or card?” He twisted around to actually look at them, and his eyes went wide. “You - you’re -”

“John Sheppard.” John fished his wallet out of his pocket and held his card out.

The young man’s mouth fell open, and he was blushing beneath his tan. Then he took in Rodney, and his eyes went even wider. Rodney reached into his own pocket, drew out a few bills - more than enough for the fare and a substantial tip - and pressed it into the young man’s hand.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said, and opened the door.

John added, “Self defense is on Wednesday nights. Hope to see you there.”

And then they both stumbled out of the cab and to the front door.

“Was it really a good idea letting the fanboy know where we live?” John asked. “We could have sent him to the house down the street and walked here.”

“True,” Rodney said, unlocking the front door. When he glanced over his shoulder, the cab was still idling at the curb. “But I’m not feeling very patient tonight, not when you look that hot, so get inside. Now.”

John mock-saluted. “Yes sir.”

Rodney got the front door open, and then he was pinning John against it and kissing him hungrily, fumbling to get his bowtie untied.

“Easy there,” John murmured between kisses, stilling his hands. “Come on.” He laced his fingers through Rodney’s and led him to the bedroom. They kicked off their shoes next to the closet, and then John was unfastening his own tie.

“That cabbie was right, though,” John said. “I do like it when you pin me to the bed and trace my tattoo with your mouth. But the only person who gets to do that is you. It’s my job as a fighter to be fit and strong. The only person I care about being beautiful for is you.”

Rodney nodded, fumbling with his own tie.

John reached out, stilled his hands once more, and Rodney let his hand drop to his sides, let John unfasten his tie and start on his shirt buttons.

“Tonight, everyone at that arena saw how hot you are,” John said. He peeled Rodney out of his jacket, set it aside, then went to work on his cufflinks. “They could see how strong you are.” He leaned in, nibbled at Rodney’s collarbone, pressed soft kisses to his chest. “They could see how fine your ass is.”

Rodney’s breath hitched when John started working on his cummerbund and belt.

“They could see how sexy your legs are.”

Rodney shrugged the rest of the way out of his shirt, set the cufflinks aside, and then reached up, got to work on John’s shirt. John let him, and the two of them descended into a tangle of fingers and hands as they undressed each other, uncovering inch by glorious inch of flesh.

“But what no one gets to see,” John murmured, pressing closer so Rodney could feel his heat, “is how beautiful you look when I enter you, when I’m thrusting into you, when you come. You save that for me and only me, and I am grateful for it every day.”

“John,” Rodney moaned, desperate for just that, for John in him and above him and wrapped around him, driving him toward ecstasy.

“Love you, Rodney,” John murmured and, fully nude, guided him over to the bed.

“Love you too,” Rodney said, and after that, they needed no words.

*

The next morning, when Rodney woke, his phone was flooded with text messages, most of them from Jeannie.

_ Meredith! Are you insane? Madison just asked me what a “hottie” is! _

But Woolsey had also sent him a text message with a screenshot of an online article titled  _ hottest Nobel candidates in history. _ Beneath the headline was a picture of Rodney holding a round card and a picture of Sam poised to fight, body gleaming under the arena lights.

John opened one eye and peered at Rodney’s phone, pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “That’s the photo they should use in the program when you get your Nobel Prize.”

In the picture, Rodney was holding up the card with the number one emblazoned on it.

“I’ll be sure to tell them that,” Rodney said, and then he set his phone aside, pinned John to the bed, and pressed his mouth to the line of ink on John’s throat.

Later that day, when they’d finally hauled themselves out of bed, there was a text message from Chuck, with a picture of Kanaan in his training gear, standing on the edge of the mats at the gym.

_ Rematch? _

Almost everyone from last night’s fight was in the group text thread.

Miko’s response was,  _ Anytime, anywhere. Better launder those booty shorts, boys. _

Evan’s response was,  _ Already done. _

Sam’s response was,  _ Dignity, always dignity. _

Rodney typed out,  _ Dignity my ass. _

John’s response was,  _ Your ass is very fine. _

Rodney typed out,  _ Yes it is. _

Teyla’s response was,  _ Indeed it is. Lunch, anyone? _

_ Sure, _ Miko replied.  _ As soon as I’m done kicking Kanaan’s ass. _

Teyla sent a smiley face and then,  _ Be gentle with him. I want another child. _

The text thread was immediately flooded with a bunch of responses along the vein of  _ TMI, _ but Rodney just smiled. He really did have the best friends - and the best lover.

John came back into the bedroom with a tray of food, and Rodney leaned up and kissed him, and for at least a little while the world was all right.


End file.
